


Chapter 11 - Excerpt for CUPAAAA (and of course you have a cameo ;)

by causeimdifferent



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:15:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/causeimdifferent/pseuds/causeimdifferent





	Chapter 11 - Excerpt for CUPAAAA (and of course you have a cameo ;)

**Chapter 11 (Excerpt)  
**

“Why hello, early bird.” He gives me that full-on smile, the one that creases around his eyes and pumps up his cheeks into fist-sized apples. Simple white shirt, top two buttons open, ginger chest hair peeking at me from underneath his collarbone. I want to take a breath from that spot. By what odd magic has he become more attractive over the period of just two days? Even his nose looks smaller.

He is still not anything of what I believe I should find a turn-on in a guy. And yet, I thought of him this morning first, and of Marcus only after. I could barely wait to see him again, even though I don’t understand it one bit. 4 p.m. is hardly a civil time to make an appearance if you have a dinner invitation. “Too early?”

“Oh no.” A cheery shrug. “All liberties to the guest-of-honor.” A cheeky wink. “In fact - you’re to the minute for afternoon tea.”

 _That’s code for: afternoon sex, right? Real tea’s at five._ Wrong. He is serious about the tea. 

 

I sit down, while he pours. _The right place for a hot cuppa all of a sudden_? Why am I not naked already? I don’t get it.

“Cream?”

I nod yes, meaning no. This is too confusing. _How is tea to be preferred to dragging me upstairs?_

He hands me the cup and takes a seat _on one of the armchairs_.

_Safety distance? Are you kidding me? Stop treating me like a genuine nephew of yours. What’s with entangling your legs in a knot rather than sprawl out for me to further improve my cock sucking skills?_

No blatant checking out of my privates. No! He peeks at his feet. His bloody feet! And smiles at them.

“New socks?”

“You do have an eye for detail.” James wriggles his toes. “Paul Smith. Couldn’t resist as I was walking by/past today. You like them?”

“Very stripy. Very pink.” And I’m actually very jealous of them.

“Mauve, fuchsia and rosé.”

 _Thanks for setting that right._ “Cute.” I never say cute. ”Sexy, too.” He should like that.

All I get is a tired smile and I’m beginning to feel restless. Instead of fondling my knee - or else, he absent-mindedly pats the armrest’s velvet. “What have you been up to since yesterday,” James asks and his lids flutter as though he’s about to pass out.

 _Seriously? Fireside chat instead of fireside sex? Can we proceed to the latter, the topic in question is truly the last thing I want to explore._ I examine the cup in my hand. What a squiggly handle. Fascinating.

James chuckles softly. “Interesting.”

“What is?” I put my cup back on its saucer and shove my hands underneath my thighs.

“Silence says more than a thousand words,” James chirps, “As does a sudden rosy shimmer to the cheeks.” Gone is any tiredness, keenness glistens in his eyes. “I’m dying to know.”

_Can I be any more annoyingly obvious?_

“You’ve been to bed with someone.”

Can he be any more annoyingly unerring?

“Perhaps.” It’s not like him knowing bothers me so much. Going back there in my head and talking about it does. And considering the repercussions. I wriggle about on my chair as though interrogated and totally guilty.

“You naughty boy.”

_I suppose that’s intended to be a compliment._

“I wish I hadn’t though,” Others would boast, but I’m not feeling it. Bragging is so Marcus. And so my father. I’m not there yet by a long stretch - and I doubt I ever want to be.

“Oh?” Wide puppy eyes. “How can a screw possibly be a bad thing?” Whenever he says something saucy his plummy accent becomes more pronounced.

“Well, not the, um – screw itself – ”

“But – ?”

“It just wasn’t with a nice guy.”

James cracks up, slaps the armrest with glee and I wonder how that’d feel on my butt. “That isn’t necessarily a bad thing either.”

 _Oh shut up._ Marcus is probably busy bragging about me to some gym chum right this instant.

“I hope you are going to disclose the particulars some time.”

“They are not bloody worth knowing,” I snap. So much for not being obvious.

“Well, now I really want to know. Perhaps you tell us tonight.” James intertwines his fingers, rests them in his lap and leans back, as though getting ready for story time.

 _Not on your nelly._ “When are your friends coming?”

James’ intrigued face turns slack. “Sevenish, I reckon, but the cocks – cooks – will turn up around five, dinner starts at eight.” He hides a yawn behind his hand.

“Are you not looking forward to it?” _I don’t._

He turns towards me heavily: “Listen – ,” Subtly strained undertone.

_Okay, I get it. You changed your mind about me being here tonight._

“– I’ve just been tending to all the Christmas responsibilities that just cannot be avoided. Family and such – the usual drag. I’m a tad knackered right now – .”

 _Oh thank God._ “That’s alright. I can come back later.”

“No, no, no,” he leans in to pat my knee uncle-style. _Wow, physical contact at last._ “Please. Guest-of-honor, remember? Don’t you dare leave this house. Stroll the library, right next door, stacked with art books … Turner, Rothko … all the good stuff. It’s all there.” He settles back in the armchair and his eyes fall close in shadowy sockets. “I’ll just sit here for a couple of minutes like an old man, if you don’t mind – ” His voice trails off and flows into a deep heave. His head rolls to the side against the wingback of the chair and his facial muscles relax into the pull of gravity. _Cute._

How sleep wipes away the guardedness and reveals the vulnerability below. The jaw slack against his collarbone, James’ chest heaves softly in the wake of his breath. The curl of hair between his temples flops forward. It looks soft and wispy. A hint of stubble glistens on his chin and cheeks, tempting me to probe it with my fingertips.

Lean forearms stored snugly on the armrests, slender fingers dangle against his softly curved thighs. If I were daring I’d straddle and kiss him. Perhaps later, when I’m full on hammered. Can’t wait to forget about Christmas and Marcus. The reflection of the fire casts a shimmer on the hairs on the back of his hands.

“What are you looking at?”  
  
I start and cringe. Caught indulging in forbidden pleasures. That was one brief nap.

“Not at my cock now, were you?”

 _I was probably just about to._ “N – no.”

“Nothing to feel bad about,” James shrugs, “It’s well worth checking out.”

“I wasn’t though.”

“How disappointing,” he pouts. “What could possibly be more interesting?”

“Your hands.”

“Good choice,” James exclaims, “I suppose you were pondering their dexterity.” His chuckle is warm and throaty. “Do I see a blush?”

“I got you a present,” I blurt out.

“How little it takes to get you flustered. Incredibly charming.” _That smile._ “Well then, what did you get me?”

A last minute solution. The least original thing imaginable.

“Daniel-Etienne Defaix: Chablis Grand cru Blanchot 2004”.

_Say that again._

“Quite decent,” James decides. Caressing the label with his thumb seems to be a thing of his. “You didn’t spend the money I gave you on this, did you? If so I will have to get the store in trouble. For selling to someone underage.”

“I didn’t exactly _buy_ it.”

A wide grin spreads across James’ face. “A steal from the in-house cellar?”

“Possibly.”

“Won’t it be missed?”

“Probably.”

He casts me a narrow look. “Are you sure you won’t get in trouble for nicking this?”

 _On the contrary._ “Perhaps I enjoy getting in trouble for you.”

That claim takes both of us by surprise.

“Well, I haven’t heard anything that romantic in quite a while.” James’ words drop into an effective pause. The surface of a pond, rippled by a stone, calming, turning into a motionless pane. His gaze catches mine. And holds it. My swallow is louder than any other I have ever heard.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he says.


End file.
